


Lunar

by iamanidhwal



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Bisexual Alec Hardy, Biting, Bottom Alec, Broadchurch - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Kissing, Hate, Love/Hate, M/M, Marking, One Night Stands, Pure Smut, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Roughness, Scratching, Sexual Content, Short One Shot, Smut, Top Lee, lee/alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: There's something to be said about the effects of a full moon.None of them really go through both of Lee Ashworth and Alec Hardy's minds for more than a second, the call of flesh tugging stronger.
Relationships: Lee Ashworth/Alec Hardy
Kudos: 15





	Lunar

**Author's Note:**

> I hate how there's only one fucking fic of Lee Ashworth/Alec Hardy in this whole damn site that's in English. Watch me rectify that.
> 
> Pure smut. Little dialogue.

There's something to be said about the effects of a full moon.

None of them really go through both of Lee Ashworth and Alec Hardy's minds for more than a second, the call of flesh tugging stronger.

There weren't really any other thoughts to entertain, their consciousness foggy with the haze of lust and primal, carnal instinct. Not much words were shared, except for the hiss when teeth broke flesh and blood seeped through, the groans as strong fingers latched onto bony hips, caressed a heaving chest. And on the moments where they felt like something had to be said, it was only very few, broken, far in-between.

"Yes," the thinner man breathed, and his partner moved in the darkness, mouth latched onto his member and doing things that made him scrunch his eyes shut, so hard that fireworks appeared in the back of his eyelids.

"Fuck," said the man on his knees, eyes trained up at the detective he had wanted and hated for the past years, whose hand had been raking his hair and had tugged on it particularly hard when his tongue flicked at a sensitive spot.

"Here," he said once more, as he put a hand on square in the middle of the smaller man's back and forced him to bend over the desk, filled with folders and evidence files, pictures and receipts and sticky notes with question marks. He roughly shoved them aside, favoring the meal slick and prepped before him.

"There!" the man pinned under cried out, as the expert thrusts and growls led him closer and closer, over the edge, and he could only clamber at the sides of the desk to try and right himself, to get some semblance of control, but the man he had suspected for all this time was now giving in to his desires, fulfilling his own. If he, at one point, had said that this man was making him lose his mind, he was proved right this time.

And when they both climax, bodies spent and chest heaving, breath ragged and hair a mess, mouths sloppy on each other as they bask in the afterglow, they whisper two more little words that only they could hear, lost in the confines of this dingy little studio place, with only the full moon seen through the window as their witness.

"Hardy..."

"Ashworth..."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the shortest fic I have ever posted but I'm kinda happy with the results. I usually get lost in the details but this is way more fun making readers fill in the gaps. :^)
> 
> Leave some kudos and comments!


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